


drinking about you

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Seduction, Drunk Bilbo Baggins, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 15:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bilbo has too much and just the right amount.





	drinking about you

“And I said to her, ‘Listen here, you absolute _ louse, _ turn out your pockets or I will call upon the Shiriff to do it for you!’”

This declaration is met with thunderous laughter and applause and Bilbo sways in his chair, inordinately pleased with himself.

He’s surrounded by dwarves and men in some small inn in a backwoods village they had come across. Thorin had been hard pressed to stop for the night or let anyone indulge themselves in ale but when more than half of the dwarves had joined in with Fili and Kili’s begging, he had finally given in, if only to make it stop. Bilbo might have whooped with the rest of them as Thorin stalked away.

They’re on… better terms now, certainly. Thorin doesn’t glare at him anymore and sometimes even seeks out his company, something Bilbo marvels at. Thorin can be very pleasant to speak with, Bilbo has found, especially so when he’s relaxed. He tells Bilbo about Erebor when he asks and it’s the most animated Bilbo has ever seen him when he speaks of the might that is the Lonely Mountain.

His blue eyes will light up in the firelight and occasionally turn mischievous, if he’s speaking about his own childhood. It’s a remarkably different Thorin than Bilbo had first met and yet he understands why that had to be.

Bilbo is a stranger and worse yet, a hobbit. He’s an outsider and has nothing to gain besides treasure from this quest and he had made it clear he didn’t want any treasure. It made him suspicious and his lack of, well, preparedness for the road had spoken loudly of his naivety and just how very in over his head he was.

But he thinks the troll business helped him to prove himself at least a little. He had seen Thorin’s eyes turn curious when Thorin thought he wasn’t looking at any rate.

For now, Bilbo is deciding to pretend they’re not on a quest at all, but rather enjoying themselves at an inn as friends are wont to do. Most of the dwarves are at the same table he is, along with three men, who joined the party when they had seen what good spirits everyone was in. Thorin, Balin, and Dori are the only ones not at the table. They’re in the corner drinking and conversing quietly and Bilbo has quite forgotten them by his sixth pint of ale.

“Did she take her revenge?” Kili hollers as he sloshes some of his ale down his front.

“Oh, she certainly tried to pull up my daisies,” Bilbo slurs. “But I chased her off with my rake!”

Everyone laughs again, Bilbo included, and wipes tears from their eyes.

“Never knew halflings to have so much spunk,” one of the men says. He’s a burly fellow, with thin brown hair and watery blue eyes, but he’s bought three of Bilbo’s ales.

“We’re hobbits, thank you very much,” Bilbo says as he shakes his finger. “Big folk are endlessly surprised by us, you know. A wizard told me that.” He taps the side of his nose. “But we’re quite…”

“Clever!”

“Quick on their feet!”

“Purveyors of pipeweed!”

“And greedy with their pantries!”

Bilbo gestures widely at the dwarves who have shouted their input. “That’s absolutely correct!” he says. “We’re also very fond of flowers.”

“Is the Shire not a rich country?” another man asks. He’s handsome, with blond hair and green eyes and a wide, white smile.

“Certainly,” Bilbo says. “Only not in the way you mean it. We are rich in that we have full pantries and comfortable roofs over our heads and nice, large families to turn to if we’re in need of anything. Not that I’d turn to any family of mine, not really, because all they want is my smial and any gold I might have to my name.”

“Do you have more gold than the others?”

“Bilbo’s hole is the best of them all!” Ori roars.

The men exchange a bit of a glance and Bilbo laughs.

“What he means is, my home is the largest. My father built it for my… my mother,” Bilbo says as he hiccups and his vision blurs. “And what a fine couple they were!”

“What do you do for work?” the burly man asks.

“Nothing!” Bilbo shouts and pounds his mug on the table while the dwarves laugh uproariously. The men look mildly disappointed and Bilbo snickers. “Well, I am a landlord, but that’s only a bit of paperwork and collecting gold here and there.”

The men look at each other again and Bilbo feels mildly uneasy about it but can’t for the life of him pinpoint why. More ale is what he clearly needs. Or moonshine. Yes, moonshine sounds perfect.

“Does this place have good moonshine? Nothing will beat my gardener’s moonshine, of course, but,” Bilbo says and shrugs, “well, I fancy a bit.”

“It does,” the blond man says with a roguish grin. “Let me order us all a round!”

The dwarves and Bilbo cheer, which nearly throws him off his chair, but the burly man catches him and rights him with a mighty clap to his shoulder. “Careful, wee Baggins,” he says with a smirk. “We don’t want you cracking your head open anytime soon.”

“Good of you,” Bilbo says as his aforementioned head swims. “Though I might not get up those stairs after a bit of my old friend moonshine.”

“Don’t you worry,” the third man, black-haired with a massive beard, says. “We’ll get you to your nice feather pillow later.”

“How kind,” Bilbo says and holds on to the table for stability. “Where is that moonshine, by the by?”

“Coming just now—”

“Master Baggins.”

“Ah!” Bilbo says and looks around for Thorin. He doesn’t see him at all and frowns until a large hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head back and squints up at Thorin looming over him.

Thorin isn’t looking at him, but the men instead, slowly between the three of them. Bilbo knows that look, as he has been the recipient of it many times, and giggles.

“No need to be wary, Master Oak—”

“Master Baggins,” Thorin repeats a bit more loudly and looks at Bilbo. “May I speak with you in private?”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” Bilbo moans. “The moonshine will be here any moment. Sit! Join us, won’t you?”

“I’ve had my fill of ale,” Thorin says with an edge to his tone Bilbo has a hard time placing the meaning of. “As have you.”

“Yes, that’s why he’ll be switching to moonshine,” the blond man says with a laugh. “Join us, Master Dwarf, it’s on me.”

Thorin smiles vaguely as he looks at the man but he doesn’t say anything to him and looks at Bilbo again. “Master Baggins,” he says, “come. We need a word.”

“Are you going to shout?”

Thorin looks mildly pained now and sighs. “I will not shout,” he says quietly. “Not at you.”

Bilbo’s a bit concerned for whoever else Thorin is planning on shouting at and looks around the table at the dwarves. They’ve gone oddly silent and are looking between Thorin and the men both. Bilbo’s fairly certain Dwalin’s got his hand on one of his axes and wonders if he’ll be an unfortunate victim of whatever foul mood Thorin is in.

“Oh alright,” Bilbo sighs loudly. “I’ll be back with you… lovely gentlemen in a bit,” he says to the men.

They aren’t smiling anymore, he notices, but he doesn’t think much of it, because they’re looking at Thorin and Thorin is hardly a reason to smile about upon first meeting him.

Bilbo clambers off of the bench very carefully and is fairly sure the pressure on his arm is Thorin’s hand but he ignores it and stands straight. Thorin gestures toward the stairs and Bilbo is certain that he meant to walk that way but Thorin’s hands appear on his shoulders this time, turning him in a different direction.

They do make it to the stairs eventually and Bilbo promptly sits on the bottom step. He feels winded and the room is spinning and there are two of Thorin - one too many, he’s sure - and he groans.

“Moonshine would have been a mistake,” Thorin says, not unkindly.

“What do you know about it?” Bilbo asks grumpily but he’s not sure that response makes much sense at all. “I quite enjoy moonshine.”

“You and I can share a glass when we’ve won Erebor back,” Thorin says. He sounds strange and Bilbo squints up at him once the room has stopped spinning.

“You drink moonshine?”

Thorin’s lips twitch. “Aye.”

“You?”

“…aye.”

“Master I-Have-A-Stick-Up-My-Rear-End enjoys moonshine?”

Thorin huffs a little. “I am leading a quest to slay a dragon and take back a mountain,” he says slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I  _ do _ enjoy myself otherwise.”

_ “You?” _

“Me, Master Baggins,” Thorin sighs. “We need to get you to your room.”

“But I haven’t had it yet!” Bilbo says loudly and attempts to stand. “I’m not a child to be sent to bed, you know!”

“Aye, you aren’t a child,” Thorin agrees and grasps Bilbo’s arm as he wobbles. “But you are naive to the ways of the world.”

Bilbo scowls. “Hardly,” he snaps and sways nearly enough to fall over, if not for Thorin’s strong hands. “I’ve learned rather a lot over these last few months.”

“You have,” Thorin says. “And you have much to learn still. Can you walk up the stairs?”

Bilbo grumbles and turns to face the stairs and watches them swim in and out of his vision. “Mmmm, yes,” he says and grips the bannister tightly.

There’s a bit of silence before Thorin asks dubiously, “What are you doing?”

“I’m walking up the stairs!” Bilbo says as he turns to glare at Thorin. “What more do you want from me?”

Thorin merely raises an eyebrow and glances down toward their feet.

Bilbo looks down and sees that he’s still standing on the first step of the stairs. He flaps his hand. “I was merely getting myself ready,” he says defensively, and it must be said, with a fair amount of slurring.

Thorin turns his head away for a moment and seems to be staring into the far off corner of the inn before he looks back at Bilbo, his lips pursed.

Bilbo stares at him for a while before he rolls his eyes. “Oh, laugh all you want. I’ll remember it in the morning.”

This time Thorin lets his grin free, wide and achingly beautiful in the firelight, and Bilbo stares dumbly at him before he remembers himself. He turns back to the stairs and begins to scale them, slowly and methodically, with Thorin only catching him a few times. Each time he touches Bilbo’s back or arm it feels like he’s igniting a fire under Bilbo’s skin and by the time they reach the top of the stairs, he’s in a bit of a state.

He’s highly aware of the mountain of feelings he’s developing in his heart for one Thorin Oakenshield but that’s dangerous territory he won’t be exploring anytime soon.

“Which room is mine?”

“Here,” Thorin says as he guides Bilbo down a hallway and to a door at the end of it. He pushes it open and steers Bilbo inside.

Bilbo may be drunk but he’s not blind. “This is your room!” he complains and points accusingly at Thorin’s pack sitting on the bed. “I’m supposed to be with Ori and Nori tonight.”

“Plans change,” Thorin says briskly. “There are two beds. Take the one in the far corner.”

Bilbo’s aware he’s pouting as he stumbles along to the bed. He doesn’t quite make it however, and stumbles over his own feet until a strong arm wraps around his middle. Thorin hauls him bodily onto the bed and holds on to Bilbo’s shoulders, looking down at him with some concern.

It’s a good look on him, Bilbo decides, and smiles dreamily to himself. Thorin looks even more concerned and Bilbo realizes that  _ to himself _ is still in full view of Thorin. He hiccups.

“Excuse me,” he says as he peers up at Thorin. “You look quite handsome tonight.”

Thorin’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead. “Go to sleep, Master Baggins.”

“I’d like to make a proposition instead.”

“…please don’t.”

“You think I’ll forget everything in the morning,” Bilbo says, “but I don’t forget a thing after drinking moonshine.”

“You had no moonshine.”

“Even so!” Bilbo says and points his finger in the air. “You won’t be a mere dalliance I’ll forget in the morning.”

“I will not be a  _ dalliance _ at all,” Thorin says firmly and takes a step back from Bilbo.

Bilbo reaches forward and he suspects it’s nearly falling off the bed that causes Thorin’s hands to grasp his arms again rather than any romantic intention. But… even so. “No, you’re much more than a dalliance,” he says. “I’d take you home to the Shire after I’ve made a dwarf out of you.”

Thorin looks as if he might want to laugh again and it isn’t until Bilbo glares that he clears his throat. “As… enticing as that sounds,” he says mildly, “you are not sober enough to make decisions for either of us.”

Bilbo thinks about that for a while. “Well, no,” he agrees. “Not for you, anyway, I’m… perf—perfect…ly capable of deciding for myself. And I have decided that I want Thorin Oakenshield in my bed. If he’ll have me. You, that is.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin sighs and pushes Bilbo on to his back on the bed. When Bilbo reaches for Thorin’s belt, he quickly snatches up his hands. “No. Not tonight. Sleep tonight.” He grabs the blanket at the end of the bed and drags it up to Bilbo’s chest before he can protest.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Bilbo says as he looks at Thorin. “I want you. In me.”

Thorin’s throat bobs. “Not tonight,” he repeats a bit hoarsely. “And not in the morning either,” he says quickly as Bilbo opens his mouth to propose just that. “You are going to be mortified in the morning.”

Bilbo scoffs. “Mortified,” he repeats as he snuggles under the blanket and closes his eyes. “I’ve never been mortified a day in my life.”

“Indeed,” Thorin says and sounds a bit relieved. “Sleep. There will be a bucket here if you need it.”

“Mhmm,” Bilbo hums sleepily and quite forgets any lusty whims he might have had as he drifts into a deep sleep.

——

Bilbo supposes mortified is a good enough word for it.

He sits on the edge of the bed with his pillow clutched to his chest and stares down at the empty bucket. Thorin is gone, his bed neatly made, so much so that Bilbo suspects he might not have even slept in it. His heart twinges at the thought while his ears warm up by the embarrassment of it.

He’d very literally propositioned Thorin. It’s enough to make him want to sneak out of the window and run until he’s back home in the Shire, never to see or hear from Thorin Oakenshield ever again.

Thorin is a very decent person, Bilbo thinks glumly what he cannot think of himself, and in more than just one way at that. Bilbo was already confident that Thorin wouldn’t take advantage of anyone in any way but he’d also saved his hide last night from those men.

All of the warning signs are glaringly obvious now that Bilbo has sobered up and he’s angry at himself for not seeing it last night. He knows he could sniff out people with ill intentions normally - he has plenty of practice with that in the Shire - but he supposes all of the ale they had given him had dulled his senses. The dwarves he had been sitting with hadn’t noticed it either. Not until Thorin had shown up and Bilbo frets more at the thought that he hadn’t caught on to it even then.

He sighs. There’s no use hiding away in the room all morning, especially not when he smells fried bacon downstairs. The sun is already bright enough that he suspects Thorin ordered a late start because of his… state. He covers his face at the thought and moans into his hands.

Thorin isn’t likely to ever respect him again.

But there’s nothing to do about that now and Bilbo goes about his morning business. Once he’s sure his breath won’t slay lesser men, he leaves the room and creeps slowly down the hall and stairs.

The men from last night aren’t anywhere to be seen. The dwarves are spread out over three tables and Bilbo watches them as they eat their breakfast with a pained sigh. He has no doubt that Thorin didn’t speak to anyone of what he had said last night but he thinks that he’ll have a hard time looking anyone squarely in the eye for a while.

He walks quietly to the edge of one table and sits down next to Ori, who jumps at his sudden appearance.

“Bilbo! Are you alright?” he asks with such genuine concern that Bilbo wishes to melt to the floor.

“Oh, erm,” he says and nods, “quite, yes, thank you.” Ori looks skeptical and Bilbo smiles faintly. “Bit of a headache, is all.”

“Did Thorin give you a good reaming then?”

Bilbo gapes across the table at Nori, who is watching him with a grin, and feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Dori is next to Nori, primly eating his breakfast, but he carefully sets his fork down, wipes his hands, and smacks Nori soundly on the back of the head.

Nori yelps. “What was that for?” he demands angrily. “I only meant if Thorin yelled at him for getting so drunk.” He scowls as his brothers glare at him. “Honest!”

“It’s alright,” Bilbo says with a sigh. He believes Nori - this time anyway. “He didn’t yell at me at all but I do understand why he didn’t want me to drink anymore last night.”

“We’re very sorry, Bilbo,” Ori says. “We should have seen what their intentions were long before someone who was sitting across the room could.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bilbo says as he smiles. “I shouldn’t have let strangers keep buying me pints. I know better now. They’d have robbed me blind if I let them get me alone.”

“Thorin was watching long before he came to you,” Dori says. “He regrets waiting for so long, I think.”

Another thing for Bilbo to feel badly about. He merely smiles apologetically and digs into his breakfast when it’s set in front of him. He’ll need it, he thinks, for whenever he will inevitably have to speak to Thorin. He needs to apologize and that makes him feel queasy but he pushes it aside. It’s the least Thorin deserves.

He’ll find him when they’ve set off and do it then.

“Master Baggins.”

Or perhaps he’ll do it now.

Bilbo nearly chokes on his bacon and coughs as he looks up at Thorin standing next to him. Ori, Dori, and Nori mumble about taking their plates to the front and scamper from the table. Bilbo would groan but he’s already enough of a fool and gestures at the seat across from him as he nibbles on the rest of his bacon.

Thorin stiffly sits down. “How do you fare?”

“Well enough,” Bilbo says as he takes a drink of water to wash down the food stuck in his throat. He sighs a little and braves looking at Thorin. Thorin is peering at him with concern and it reminds Bilbo far too much of last night. “Erm,” he says. “Thorin, I’m…” He swallows dryly. “I’m…  _ so _ sorry.”

“You weren’t the only one who had too much,” Thorin says slowly. “I cannot fault you for it.”

“I’m sorry for that, yes, but I’m quite sorrier for the rest of it.”

“…ah.”

“I told you I wouldn’t forget.”

They sit in silence for a while. Bilbo picks at the edge of the table, looking between it and Thorin, who is watching him with a strange expression.

“You… are not the first to proposition me while inebriated,” Thorin says after a while. “Most need to be before they even would.”

“That’s not—” Bilbo abruptly stops and gapes at Thorin. “Excuse me?”

Thorin’s cheeks are pink. “Or they are merely looking to get into bed with a king.”

“That’s awful,” Bilbo says, and then, “but what do you mean they need to be drunk before asking you for— for that?”

Thorin frowns. “The way that I look.”

Bilbo is fairly certain he’s missing a large piece of information and stares at Thorin, his brain protesting any sort of concentration. “Are you telling me that… that your fellow, idiot dwarves don’t find you appealing?”

“Some do,” Thorin says and looks as if he very much regrets the conversation. “But none I’m interested in.”

Bilbo taps his fingers on the table, his heart rapidly beating. “Idiots, the lot of them,” he mumbles. “I’m including myself as an idiot but not in this.” He takes a deep breath. “You are the most handsome person I have ever seen in all my life and I meant every word of what I said last night.”

There. He’s said it. It’s out there and there is no taking it back. Thorin will likely hold it against Bilbo, but what is he, if not an honest burglar?

Thorin is quiet again. He watches Bilbo, the look on his face largely unreadable. “You said you would take me to the Shire.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agrees. “Even without making a dwarf out of you.”

That brings out an unexpected laugh and Thorin’s eyes dart down to the table as he smiles. “You do remember,” he murmurs. “Are you mortified?”

“Terribly,” Bilbo says with a shaky sigh. “But seeing you smile is worth it.”

Thorin looks at Bilbo, smiling still, his eyes infinitely soft. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Bilbo says and thinks that his honesty is taking him to unexpectedly good places, “I think I’d quite like to sit with you in front of the fire each night and perhaps when we sleep as well. That I’d like to share meals and conversation with you. I’d like to continue sharing in your adventure until we reach the mountain and I’d like to see you slay a dragon and rule a mountain. I’d like to… continue sharing in that adventure, as well, if you’ll have me. If you… even can.”

Thorin breathes out a bit shakily as well. He reaches across the table and lays his warm hand over Bilbo’s. “The good thing about being a king, Master Baggins,” he says, “is that I can do whatever I please.”

Bilbo smiles and looks at their hands. “And what is it  _ you _ want to do?”

“I would like to share in your adventure as well,” Thorin says and smiles, his eyes bright and endlessly blue. “If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, my dear,” Bilbo says breathlessly. “To the ends of the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> A rewrite of a fic I never posted in 2016. I hope you enjoy it! Kudos and comments are so, so appreciated.
> 
> Thank you so much to [telltalelily](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/telltalelily) [diskingoferebor](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/diskingoferebor) and [angelsallfire](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire)! Title credit belongs to telltalelily. c:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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